


candy boy (sugar swap shop)

by watername



Category: SHINee
Genre: Car Sex, Daddy Kink, M/M, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24428731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watername/pseuds/watername
Summary: "You are so pretty, you know," he says idly. Jinki flushes. Kibum continues, guiding them around the side of the car. One of his hands comes down and around to settle on the curve of his cheek, his fingers digging in. "And I enjoy driving around, but something's always missing to make it feel complete."Kibum lifts in one swift motion, pushing Jinki to a seated position on the car, his legs pushed open."A pretty little hood ornament."
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Jinki | Onew
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	candy boy (sugar swap shop)

**Author's Note:**

> follow-up to [just the right amount](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19794535%22).
> 
> don't need to have read that first, both are shameless excuses for onkey daddy kink

Jinki is feeling old, peering over papers organized neatly over a dark wood table, glasses sliding down his nose, late on a Friday. There's probably parties, drinking - generally _youthful_ activities Jinki feels overall nebulous towards, like they exist in some universe just slightly over from his own. He's not too burned about it. If he stumbled into such a universe, full of chaotic joy, he'd probably ask for the exit.

The man seated at the other end of the table is on loan from the other universe, Jinki thinks. Kibum is dressed down, certainly - a loose dark grey shirt that shows off the edges of his collarbones, his hair unstyled - but the way he carries himself never changes, is never anything but a confident assertion that he belongs, that he fits.

It has to be well past midnight, by now. Jinki had arrived in shirtsleeves, his jacket pooled up in the back seat of his car as he pulled up a seemingly endless driveway. It had been an easy and long enough drive that the tension from the office, from the day-in, day-out demands of work had more or less lost its edge, leaving him mildly confident he could start on another project. 

He's an idiot, in his considered opinion, and he knows well enough the real reason he came over wasn't about the line items.

Kibum had entered the room just a few minutes ago, silently seating himself at the other end of the table and playing with his phone. He looked every inch like he was in no rush at all. It's possible he wasn't; Jinki likes to think he's picked up a few things - the sounds of his impatience, the possessive hand on his side when Jinki wakes up, the way he lingers in a kiss - but it's hardly the full scope of the man.

His thoughts, and his tiring brain, have led him to staring at Kibum without really seeing him, missing the way his eyes flare briefly with concern, the small thump as he lays down his phone.

"You must have a hell of a boss, to keep you working like this," Kibum says. His eyes are soft with affection as he reaches out and plucks Jinki's glasses off the edge of his nose. Jinki brings the heels of his hands up to rub at his eyes, banking on it hiding the faint blush that's already creeping up. "I think even he would give you a break. Don't you?" 

Jinki sighs, gestures pleadingly at the cascades of paper. He tries to account, to himself and to Kibum, his own flimsy excuse around a sudden tightness in his throat. 

"He has too much money," he says as he watches Kibum gather up the various piles (sorted by importance) into a single high stack.

The other man lets out a low chuckle and turns as he places the last collection on top. 

"If you have a suggestion where I could spend it, I'll write the check now," Kibum says when he faces him again. 

The implication - that Jinki is always welcome to ask, and Kibum always willing to give - only serves to heat up Jinki's face more. He leans back instead, avoiding his gaze and looking up at the tastefully appointed, discreetly opulent lighting. 

"You're tired," Kibum says, the provocation in his voice softening with concern. "You've worked enough to satisfy anyone."

"I like working," Jinki protests. The instinct is strong from years of practice, and equally untested by people willing to let him work himself raw. Kibum, however, stays silent at the dodge, and waits for to Jinki to fumble forward.

"I just don't like leaving things half-done," he admits.

Kibum urges him up from his seat with a light touch to his wrist, wrapping his arms around him. His fingers begin kneading at Jinki's shoulders as their eyes meet. Kibum is only an inch or two taller than him. Even in his relaxation he's more poised than Jinki at his most attentive.

"You aren't. I promise," he says.

Jinki wrinkles his nose, knowing the face he's making is juvenile, but also knowing it makes Kibum laugh. He likes that laugh, the genuinely unguarded way Kibum looks when it comes out of him, as though it's something he trust to Jinki's care alone. He leans back against the table, his palms pressed against the cold, dark grain as he half-sits on it. 

Kibum's eyes dart down, and Jinki pulls his palms up, worried about admonitions of smudging.

"It'll be here when you get back," Kibum says instead.

His boyfriend, Jinki has learned over the past few months, rarely has suggestions without a plan. He can feel the places Kibum is touching him, the tips of his fingers perched across his collarbones.

He asks, "When am I coming back?"

Strong hands against the side of his face, dark eyes full of intent lock onto him. Jinki can already feel a slow pit opening up beneath him, his feet uselessly scrabbling as the gravity that is Kibum pitches him backwards.

"We're going to clear out your head," he breathes out. "Can you let your daddy take care of you?"

Jinki ducks his head, and nods his assent.

"Good. We're going for a drive."

* * *

Jinki fidgets in the passenger seat until Kibum slides behind the wheel. If he tries, he can imagine that he's just being taken home by his boyfriend, which is a reasonable, normal thing. Kibum probably would end up taking him home after whatever his plans are. He forces his breath to come out more evenly. 

"What do you normally do after work?" Kibum asks without preamble. 

Jinki knows the other man already has an idea, just from the few months they've been involved. He asks because he wants to hear Jinki's response and take him by the hand to his planned conclusion. 

He knows what he could say.

He could say that he texts Kibum - he's terrible at it, always taking long to respond, but he takes pictures while walking in the park and sends them after he gets home. Kibum always warmly encourages that, with a bit of light teasing. He could say he goes to arcades when he has the time to accumulate wins on any number of machines. He could mention the bike rides with the improved warm weather. He could remind him that he reads on the couch, dozing off in the afternoon sun, where Kibum caught him just last week, calling him an old man as he carefully extracted the book from his grip and marking the page for him.

It reminded him then, and it reminded him now, of the irony of being called an old man by daylight, and the opposite in private.

Jinki licks his lips as Kibum's long fingers flip the headlights on. Cold, bright light unveils the paved line leading out the road. The carefully trimmed trees loom high as Kibum drives forward. 

"Watch TV. Play with - play online," he says, stuttering over the last slip of the tongue. The last time he was bored after work, just the other day, he had thoughtlessly jerked off. 

The hum out of Kibum's mouth is conspicuously bland. 

"I want you to try something," he says. They pull to the T-intersection with the quiet road that gets little non-Kim family traffic, and stop. Kibum's hand falls from the steering wheel to Jinki's leg. His fingers insinuate, gesture elegantly inwards. "We're going to be driving for a bit. Pull your cock out, baby."

The car pulls forward, the wheels turning left under his steady guidance.

"Don't worry about me," he continues, gaze landing back on Jinki as he gapes. "Windows are dark. Hardly anyone is on the road. Do what you would normally do, and just try to relax."

Kibum goes back to paying attention to the road. Jinki's hand finds his fly, as he goes to follow Kibum's request mindlessly. He's afraid to look up and catch his attentiveness, at the distraction it would cause as he pulls himself out. It's still soft in his hand, and he gently begins to stroke. 

He thinks of Kibum, thinks _daddy is watching_. 

His cock jumps in the loose ring of his fingers.

There's no music, and barely the sound of an expensively quiet machine. The minor sounds fill the car like an orchestra warming up: the gentle rustling of clothes as Jinki shifts, his exhalation as he unevenly hardens. 

As little artifice as Kibum had put around it, Jinki is acutely aware of his audience. When he opens his eyes, he finds he's already looking in Kibum's direction, desperate for a glimpse - but he glances away, dancing away from the flame of Kibum's undivided attention. 

"Jinki," Kibum says frankly, as if summoned by his nervous desire. "Don't worry about me, or what I think."

He giggles a little, nervous, and Kibum cracks a smile too. 

"You can think about me, or don't think about me, just - don't _worry_ about me, baby. And if you don't want to do this, then just tell me," he says, serious. 

"I want to," Jinki says. He reaches out his hand and Kibum meets it without looking, interlacing their fingers and rubbing his thumb against Jinki's skin. Jinki isn't sure what he himself wants, but Kibum always knows what he wants, and he finds comfort in his self-assurance . "I'll try. Can you just - can you tell me if you want me to come?" 

Kibum glances over at him. 

"Not yet." He doesn't say anything further, but Jinki's imagination seizes at the promise. His fingers slide over the head of his cock. 

* * *

Before Kibum, Jinki would let his mind wander until it landed on something inspirational enough. Jerking off was release, a rote measure where he knew every beat - from his exact position on the couch, to the tension of his body as he came into his hand. It was base satisfaction of a biological need, like heating up a quick dinner just to keep his stomach from growling. It wasn't eroticism; it couldn't be, his hand had played over the same motions for almost twenty years.

But - he had stumbled his way into Kibum - Kibum, who sent him texts asking how he was, who would leave him voice messages that made Jinki redden just to hear that first word. Kibum, who fucked his thighs within the first two hours of meeting, who kissed his neck in the morning and told him he was pretty. Kibum, who would buy Jinki the moon if he commented idly on the night sky. 

The first time he had jerked off after Kibum, it was the morning after, as he lay in bed, his thighs still aching and raw. His phone had buzzed, and there was a text from Kibum: _take care of yourself today. do you have aloe?_ _rub it in gently._

It was one thing to have a frenzied sexual escapade with a stranger - even if Jinki wasn't the type - it was another to have it followed up with such soft kindness. It hurt, skin against skin as he curled up, come landing on his stomach as he gasped out. But he had to, gripped with the need as soon as he glanced at his phone, and understood for the first time in his unassuming apartment, in his unassuming life, that he was his daddy's baby. 

_thanks_ , he had sent back, after he had wiped himself clean. _i will_.

It's unthinkable, in other words, what Kibum seems to be asking of him.

 _Don't worry about him. Play with himself as normal_.

Nothing in his life has been normal, not for several months now. He had never worked late nights at a client's house. He had never trembled, leafing through papers, fighting off the intrusive speculation if Kibum had ever imagined fucking him on the table.

His tongue is peeking out between his lips, and he glances over and sees the slight motion of Kibum's head, as though he had almost caught him looking. _Don't worry about me_ , Kibum demanded the impossible. The closest Jinki could get was to lean back against the headrest, the modulated heat of the seat against his back, and stare determinedly ahead into nothing. He still wants to picture Kibum, still itches to slide his gaze sideways and check if he's watching. 

He won't, though. He's going to be good. He can be good.

* * *

Pumping at his cock without lube is an unappetizing prospect, but it seems like Jinki needs to make do.

"The glovebox," Kibum says, unexpectedly.

He reaches over, his hand grazing at Jinki's knee, and unlatches the storage, rifling until he pulls out a packet. He holds it in the open palm of his hand for Jinki to pluck out. He breaks it open and slides it around. He's still mindful of his surroundings, wary of smearing something clearly expensive, settling to slide the empty packet into the pocket of his own eminently affordable pants. 

"Thank you," he breathes out, his grip running smoother up and down his length as he gently moves. He doesn't even hear Kibum, but he can feel him even without looking at him. Jinki tilts his gaze until he finds the stars. They flutter past in a pinprick mosaic against blue-back. He won't bother trying to track them, but he uses them to make his eyes finally unfocus. It makes it easier to let his hand do the work of building up a thin undercurrent of pleasure, never cresting to the brink. Idle thoughts flit past, but each time one threatens to dwell overlong, he concentrates on fixing his eyes to a certain point, letting the stars cross unseeingly.

It's little thoughts here and there that threaten, like small waves disrupting a large wake.

\- like the curl of Kibum's fingers around the wheel, the curl of them around his wrist - 

\- like the kiss he gave him when he arrived tonight, the sweet, attentive press of lips against his before he could even get out a word - 

\- like the subtle twist of his voice, when he stops being Kibum, and starts being - 

It's that last thought that he consciously takes hold of, and rips it away, recognizing the desperate twinge across his body, writhing like a paper too close to a flame. His thumb presses against the leaky opening, his body eager to push ahead. He won't give in, gripping himself hard, intent to push it past the point of comfort. The hint of pain will subvert the pleasure threatening to steam ahead.

"Are we almost there?" he finds himself asking. His palm is a slick mess. 

Kibum chuckles, his hand fall down to Jinki's thigh and squeezing in what Jinki hopes is confirmation. 

* * *

It's just enough to let him hold on. He counts off mentally - he's on 212 - before Kibum pulls the car to a stop. 

Jinki pauses, dropping his hand, undoubtedly marking his pants greasily and tucking himself back in with a small wince as he covers his hard length. He rolls down the window. It's a park, or something that should be a park soon enough, judging by the construction materials, the piles of sod and tape marking paths to be. 

Kibum puts his own hand over Jinki's pocket, where his phone is - "since we're someplace new, if you want to be feel more comfortable" - and Jinki is horny, but not an idiot, quickly adjusting his settings in case there's an emergency. 

"OK?" Kibum asks once he's done, and Jinki nods. He slips out of the car and walks over to Jinki's side, the headlights briefly illuminating him. He pops open the door and holds out his hand in perfect courtesy, the wry smile on his face making Jinki relax from the tension. 

As soon as he's upright and out of the car, Kibum presses close, guiding them away from the door. He pushes against Jinki's body and kisses him, and he can feel himself relax into his grip. He opens his mouth hungrily, but Kibum pulls away, even as he draws his hands down Jinki's sides. 

"You are so pretty, you know," he says idly. Jinki flushes. Kibum continues, moving them around the side of the car. One of his hands comes down and around to settle on the curve of his cheek, his fingers digging in. "And I enjoy driving around, but something's always missing to make it feel complete."

Kibum lifts in one swift motion, pushing Jinki to a seated position on the car, his legs pushed open.

"A pretty little hood ornament."

The pain from banging his elbows against the car doesn't even register, not when Kibum is freeing his cock again. He has such long fingers, Jinki thinks, every thought sharp and jagged, long and curling perfectly around his fat length. The wetness from earlier has dried off slightly, clinging in random imperfections. Kibum closes the minor length between them. He captures Jinki's lips again, arching over him like a shadow. 

His arm thrust out to balance him, his hand splayed out beside Jinki's head, Kibum envelops him. He whimpers at his touch, wriggling with eagerness. 

"Let me take care of you," he says, and Jinki affirms weakly, his breath slopping out of him, pathetic for agreement.

He does take care of him - his lips meander away from Jinki's lips, grazing gently up the line of his jaw and pressing against the soft, thin flesh beneath his ear. He noses against his hair, breathing Jinki in and he can swear he can feel Kibum grow warmer when Jinki shivers in response - his legs keep Jinki's open, keeping him pliant and pleading - and his hand, the one working over his cock, draws from him mewls of pleasure, a baby's babbling.

He loses himself in the sight of Kibum's face above him, framed by starlight, the gentle waving of trees in the breeze, the electrical wiring sagging loosely at the edges of his vision. He tenses up in need whenever Kibum's hand reaches the end of a stroke, needy and frantic for him to come back, to keep loving him. He feels utterly at his mercy, only Kibum is nothing but merciful, nothing but thorough as he kisses against Jinki's neck and pumps his cock. 

"Daddy," Jinki says, and he moves to face him again, his hair falling loose and brushing against Jinki's cheek. "Daddy - " he says again, choking a little. 

"Such a sweet baby," Kibum hums, kissing him at the corner of his lips. "Nothing to worry about, just relax for me - let me make you feel good, baby, be good for me. So good for me, aren't you?"

"Yes - yes," he whispers. The haze of pleasure makes Kibum's smile a half-form to his eyes, but it's enough - knowing how happy he's making his daddy, he gasps as he spills over into Kibum's fist.

Starlight blinks above them. 

* * *

Awareness slowly comes back to Jinki, in bits and pieces. The ache of his awkwardly bent legs, held open for so long by Kibum; the cold of the hood against the back of his neck; the breeze tickling against his exposed stomach, his shirt and pants having been pushed away from each other. Kibum is quietly putting him back together, moving his legs back, pulling his shirt back down and tucking his softening cock away even as Jinki jolts from the sensation. When he pulls Jinki up, he's still catching his breath. 

Kibum puts his hands on his shoulders even as he takes a step back, cupping his cheek with affection. 

"Feel better?"

"Yeah," Jinki nods, looking around for the first time. They're not as isolated as he thought at first - there's still some lights in the distance, maybe a rural house or two within a mile or so. A bit of embarrassment crawls up his chest. "Are those - ?"

"No," Kibum is quick to assure him. His lips quirk a little. "No one is here except us."

He scratches at the back of his neck, idly stretching out his back and feeling his age once again. His mind wanders for a moment as Kibum stands in front of him, apparently unbothered by his slow processing and reorientation in the afterglow. A thought strikes him - 

"If there's no one," he starts, feeling out of his element, but wanting, "Can I - ?"

He gestures in Kibum's general direction, licking at his lips without thinking. 

His expression jumps from surprise, to pleasure, to amusement as Kibum closes the gap between the two of them. 

"That's very bold of you, baby," he says, taking Jinki's hand and circling his wrist. "You don't have to."

Jinki doesn't say anything, not sure what words would work better than actions. He opts instead to start sliding off the bed, Kibum's hands coming up to help him as he awkwardly lands on the ground. It's where he wants to be though, he has no doubt about that, and he bites at his lip as he moves to undo Kibum's zipper. 

"Daddy," he says first. His fingers tremble at the metal teeth. "Can I suck your cock, please?"

Kibum runs his fingers through Jinki's hair, settling them at the nape of his neck. 

"Yes, baby."

His cock fits perfectly into his mouth, and it's nothing but warmth, the comforting shadow of Kibum sheltering him against the car. The weight of him is exquisite on his tongue; he is a little out of practice, but Kibum seems to know, gently twisting his fingers to pull Jinki back when he's going too deep, or pressing the pads of his fingers into his scalp when he wants more. Jinki swallows him further down at that prompting, concentrating on keeping his throat relaxed and wanting to be filled up completely with his length. He can feel his eyes tearing as he pushes himself for as long as he can, and Kibum strokes his hair, as though to tell him to only do what he can.

Jinki wants to do more, but he wants to obey his daddy more, so he backs off. His tongue plays along the length of Kibum's cock as he regains his bearing. He can feel his own arousal stirring again, at the prospect of Kibum looking down approvingly at his performance.

It's what he's been working towards all day, he realizes with a moan, this feeling. There's an utter sense of peace, of having a single-minded purpose that has no interruptions or demands or complexities. There's just Jinki, on his knees, his mouth full of cock, and there's Kibum's guiding hand that won't ever hurt him, just wants to keep him safe and protected and spoiled.

It's the easiest thing in the world, giving over into the feeling and having not a single thing else in his brain, besides his daddy's pleasure.

Jinki is too lost to notice, too heady to see the signs - but Kibum tells him anyway, only the slightest crack of composure in his voice to warn him he's close. He shifts forward in response, eager to have Kibum bury himself in his throat.

There's a low grunt, a jerk of the hips, and Jinki swallows every drop.

* * *

He falls asleep on the drive back, more spent than he would like to admit. Kibum rouses him enough to walk him back to his door, and he leans heavily against the frame as he struggles to put the key in the lock.

Kibum's arms wrap around him from behind; his hand helps guide Jinki's to unlock and open. His breath tickles at the back of Jinki's neck. 

Jinki blinks in alarm as he passes by the empty work table, his laptop closed and dim. Kibum pauses from his motions to flick on the lights, the sharp buzz of electricity when the hall light turns on, as he notices Jinki's panicked glance up.

"My car - my papers - they're still at your house - "

Kibum looks faux-consternated for a moment, before wrestling in his pocket. He takes out his keys and lays them down on the counter.

"Come pick them up - after you get some rest. It's all yours."

Jinki blinks up at him, flabbergasted and tired, and Kibum takes mercy on him, cups his face in his hands.

"The car is yours."

"For tonight?"

"For as long as you want it. I'll have some papers tomorrow morning. How could it be anything but yours now, baby? You decorate it so beautifully."

He knows he's flushing pink, knows he's warm and embarrassed with pleasure. He ducks his head and lets Kibum fold him into his arms possessively. 

"Thank you, daddy."


End file.
